


Siren Song

by stateofintegrity



Category: Rush (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 05:49:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5194520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an attempt to outmaneuver his feelings for his best friend, Alex banishes Geddy from an early version of Rush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Siren Song

**Author's Note:**

> I have been very hesitant to post Dirxst (I know it is taboo to many Rush fans) so if this isn't your cup of tea, please go elsewhere!

He knew that if the singer spoke he was done for. It was why he’d chosen to situate himself between the other guys in the band. Maybe their anger over Geddy’s place in the limelight would be enough to anchor him if that silvery voice brushed too long against his ears. _Just say you’ll go, please._ The poignancy of his mental pleading surprised him and he wondered if it was already too late. If Geddy submitted to the band’s request that he go, would he be forced to run after him? More than the guilt he felt when those green eyes touched his face and made his cheeks burn with shame, he felt terror at the knowledge that he might no longer belong to himself. _Even now_ , _I might not be able to let you go._

He’d acted as soon as he could, but the struggle hadn’t been a brief or an easy one. The groundwork had been laid weeks ago, when Lindy had begun to make threatening noises about “upstart singers” who “stole the spotlight.”But Lindy alone would never have brought them to this moment when Geddy’s pulse was flashing in his long pale throat and Alex, seeing the knife resting there, did nothing to prevent the sudden wet shine of blood on the blade. He watched the subtle movement of the singer’s lips and prayed that they would not shape themselves around his name. _I never wanted to hurt you_ , he thought, hoping Geddy knew that much, at least. _But if I don’t do this now. . ._ He couldn’t even think the words. Too much thought might prove that the loss of his best friend would be worse than this new and unfamiliar fear he had come to feel in his presence.

          Geddy submitted easily enough. He’d been on the other side of the equation before. He’d shaken his head at the lack of professionalism some of their former members displayed when they squalled and swore and tried to bargain a way back in after the decision to dismiss them had been made. He listened and he nodded once. Then he offered Alex his hand. The guitarist’s heart wrenched and slammed into his ribs when those familiar calloused fingers were closed inside of his own. “Good luck,” Geddy said softly in a voice of silver and down. “See you around, Lerxst.”

          As he watched him walk, holding himself in place solely through the presence of his bandmates, Alex felt a tragic sort of gratitude that Geddy had spoken the name _he’d_ given him instead of his real name. _Dirk… I’m so sorry. So sorry for the way I am._

When the figure of the singer, bent slightly as though forced to walk with a terrible wound, was lost to his eyes Alex sighed. The guys saw the tension leave him and chalked it up to a fear that Geddy wouldn’t leave easily, that it would come to a fight. Closing his eyes, the guitarist wondered why what he’d imagined as liberation felt so much like loss.

 

          For the first two weeks he spent without his best friend at his side, as constant as his shadow, Alex felt like he was drowning. And that ever-present feeling of water filling his lungs affected his interactions with everyone, no matter how hard he struggled against it. He fought with his bandmates so much that they started to call him a tyrant. His parents blamed the sudden change in attitude on his age and grumbled about it. However, since he worked and contributed to the household income they couldn’t do much more than complain. His mother, more perceptive than her spouse, kept pressing him about why Geddy no longer appeared at the house every evening. “Geddy’s such a sweet boy,” she would inevitably say, and Alex would clench his teeth, wanting to scream. He didn’t need anyone to tell him about the singer’s nature – he _knew._ It was precisely because of Geddy’s gentle nature that he couldn’t see him or answer his calls. He’d picked up once, desperate to hear that silvery not-quite-accented voice. He’d slammed the receiver back into the cradle when he’d heard pain enter it. _I hurt him._

Such agonizing knowledge undid everything he’d been trying to do. He’d banished Geddy from the band precisely to prevent him from getting hurt. And those few words spoken into the static-laden silence of the telephone line, dazed and lonely, told him that the bassist didn’t – _couldn’t_ – understand why he was suddenly on his own. It wasn’t the band he was calling about, because he could accept that. He was calling because he missed his best friend, and Alex knew it.

          He had subtle, invisible ways of punishing himself that wouldn’t involve actually apologizing. He _couldn’t_ apologize, because to do so would take him in range of those soul-scarring green eyes, _that voice._ At night he locked his door and covered his ears with headphones so that he could listen to old recordings of that voice. The sound quality was pitiful, for most of the recordings had been made in garages with used sound equipment, but it was the closest he could get.

Stretched out on his bed, listening with every fiber of his being, he wouldn’t even notice, at first, what he was doing. Lost in a world of silver singing, he was never quite conscious of his right hand roaming, unzipping his jeans. He never felt his hips shifting side to side as he slid his pants lower on his legs. The shock of air as bare skin was exposed went likewise unfelt. It was only when his fingers found their way around his slick, pulsing cock and began to work it up and down that his eyes would fly open.

One look told him that he had lost his daily battle with himself. _You still want him._ Sometimes he refused to touch himself at all, enduring the ache and the burning in an effort to make amends with the friend who didn’t know how much Alex longed for his touch. At those times, hot tears would run down his cheeks as he fought his body into submission. When he was past the worst, he’s lay staring into the darkness and feel that he had done the right thing. Those nights, he remembered the biblical story of Jacob wrestling with an angel and wished that he could see those snowy feathers at his feet, telling him he was free.

Other nights he lost the battle, but won the war. Finding it impossible to command his fingers to uncurl from around his hard length, he would merely clutch tighter and stroke harder, until he felt no desire at all, only pain. His body recoiled from his touch on those nights, but he wouldn’t stop. _You wanted this,_ a cold voice inside of him taunted. _You wanted to pretend you were with him, that he was touching you. He’ll never want you. You don’t deserve him._ And that silver voice would be lost to him in a rush of painful triumph. _Ged_ , he would think, body shuddering with exhaustion, _I can’t stop wanting you, but I won’t share my sin by enjoying it._ And he would think of the singer lying asleep, ignorant of his dark feelings and safe.

The worst times were those when he lost completely. On those nights, his need came out of nowhere, unpredicted and unprecedented in its fierceness. He wouldn’t even have his headphones on, or be in bed, and his feelings would drive him to his knees, begging, breath sobbing through his throat. Sometimes he managed to grab a pillow off of the bed. He’ d press his face into the soft folds and say his name aloud, over and over, as he pleasured himself. The exhilaration he felt on those nights was crippling in its intensity, but it was mingled, too, with the love he felt for the man he cried out for.

Guilt inevitably followed. _What if he had been here?_ he demanded of himself. _Feeling like that, you would have taken him, and to hell with what he wanted._

And then, painfully, _That’s why I sent him away._

         

By the third week, Geddy no longer called. Alex began to imagine that he was feeling better, that he might “get over” whatever spell the singer’s presence had cast over him. Sometimes small, irritating thoughts nagged at him. _Feeling better cost you the best friend you ever had. What does that say about you?_ He pushed such thoughts away, exiling them to the dark spaces in his mind that he never visited.

          So he might have gone on performing, living, and breathing in and out. Then he saw the poster. He was downtown in Toronto, hunting sound equipment for the band’s next show. He had seen such flyers a million times before and this one wouldn’t have caught his attention, except for one particular figure. He stood staring reverently; one finger even reached out to trace his features in the black and white photo. _Oh, Dirk. I’ve missed your face._ Since it was a hasty reprint, the picture was nothing to write home about. Still, it seemed to the guitarist that those soulful eyes looked past the photographer and into his, as if he had known Alex would see the picture. His gaze was frank, and, to Alex’s mind, almost accusing. Riveted as he was, he still counseled himself to turn away. Then he shook his head. It wasn’t as if merely _looking_ at the location that Ged’s new band would be playing at would do any harm. _It’s not like I’m going to go listen to him._ He would need to learn how to look and to feel nothing, because they very well might play in the same places. Steeling himself, he read the rest of the flyer. The band’s name was Cassiel, and he snorted in derision at the mystical sound. They were playing at a club he didn’t know called The Allbright. He shrugged. It meant nothing to him. Walking to the counter, he paid for his equipment and left the store.

          He felt himself shaking. Every muscle shuddered as if after a fight. He tried to pretend that it was anger that affected him so. After all, he’d just walked out on another practice session with his so-called band after they’d thrown the title into question with the way they’d performed. And when he had called them out on their lack of commitment, blank faces met his stony stare. It was obvious that they felt no guilt for such a poor showing. He couldn’t understand them at all. They said they wanted to be a band, but they didn’t want to be bothered with practice or work or deadlines. He just couldn’t understand why their level of dedication didn’t meet his. He and Geddy had always been on the same page. They’d always wanted to get beyond being a bar band. The laughs, the drinks, the girls – none of that was enough to sidetrack them from the life they envisioned. If anything, Geddy had been the _more_ dedicated musician. His perfectionism and attention to detail anchored Alex’s spontaneity. “After all, Ali,” he’d say with a soft grin, “what else have I got?”

          _Me,_ he’d always wanted to answer. _Oh, Ged, you’ll always have me._

          But it wasn’t true anymore.

          _Don’t think of him_ , some inner part of him cautioned. But such feeble resistance did nothing to extinguish the beloved image that bloomed in his mind, flickering there like a flame, casting light into the darkest corners of his heart.

          When he imagined the man he had forbidden himself to touch, certain features had a way of highlighting themselves. Watching a personal film clip, he saw the singer’s dark bangs fall over his left eye like a horse’s forelock. The soft strands caught in those long fingers and Alex felt his heart roll over and play dead, longing to go numb in the face of such memories. He saw Geddy’s eyes close for a minute, the almost-demure way his long lashes touched the high, sculpted bones of his cheeks. _Just one touch,_ he silently wished, knowing there was no force that could or would grant such wishes. _Just one time to be allowed to wrap my arms around your slim waist and slide my hands into your back pockets and pull you against me._

_**No!**_

          He beat back the memory forcefully. He’d done as much in the singer’s very presence, and smiled at him through his pain. But as he lay in bed that Friday evening he ached with need and drifted and dreamed.

          The dream of his desire dressed the singer in those worn and faded jeans Alex wanted so much to feel under the pads of his fingers. A white stage cape billowed around his body like shreds of cloud, hinting at – promising – a pale landscape of infinite beauty.

          “Geddy?”

His hair blew in a dream wind, almost black, with bey and walnut highlights revealed by stage lights. His green eyes were full of brilliant verdant stars. “Ged, what are you doing here?”

“Don’t you want me here?” It seemed to the listening guitarist that he was practically singing, drawing him closer with the power of his voice.

Something warned him not to listen, but he was filled with longing. _When I die, the last thing I want to hear is that voice saying my name._ “I do, Ged. You know I do. I always have.”

The light of the dreamscape shifted, seeming to form magnificent wings at the singer’s shoulders. _My angel,_ thought Alex as he reached out to close a single feather in his fingers, _my siren. My beautiful, terrible temptation._

The dream of Geddy brushed his mouth with his lips, and they were so warm.

“I can’t do this to you!” Alex cried, and the dream splintered around him.

He woke in the last light of the setting sun with tears standing in the blue lakes of his eyes. Standing, he knew where he had to go.

 

He drove through the failing daylight and parked four blocks away. He was early, so he knew he had nothing to fear in the way of being seen by the band, or, more importantly, Geddy. He couldn’t handle being reflected in those green eyes. _Not here. Not like this. Not on my knees._

He walked into the club with the air of someone who knew such places. The eyes of strangers passed over him and moved on. The smoky atmosphere and the clink of glasses transported him back to the days when his band was actually _performing_ , to the days when he’d stood shoulder to shoulder with Geddy. Swallowing hard, he pushed back those memories and found his way to a dark corner of the room.

Any watching eye would have pegged him as a man concentrating on his drink, but every nerve in him quickened when Geddy stepped onto that stage. Alex entered a place of absolute silence. He never heard the band announced, never heard the music begin.

The bass Geddy carried was a double neck, thin and yet heavy in his hands. He’d toned down the rocker persona a great deal, which suited the more acoustically-based Cassiel. The only remnant was the glitter that lined his green eyes. He wore thin and faded jeans and an open shirt of some silken material. Watching the way those jeans hugged his hips, Alex killed his drink in a single scalding swallow. The bass shined darkly against his naked chest. He looked down more than usual, nervous perhaps with this new group, and his long lashes glinted against his cheeks. The guitarist longed to unwind the silk scarf around his throat and to tangle his fingers in Geddy’s soft hair.

Alex trembled at the sight of his beloved. _As much as it hurts me, at least I’m able to look at you. Hear your voice. Oh, Geddy._  

He shuddered, wishing he could build a church around the singer’s voice. As the speed of the music increased and as Geddy’s voice grew louder and surer, sweat pearled on Alex’s brow. Worse still, he felt himself hardening in his jeans, erection pushing painfully against the unyielding fabric. He watched Geddy’s lovely mouth and imagined it shaping itself around his pulsing cock.

Geddy’s voice rang in his ears and he knew he couldn’t last long under such a spell. Jerking to his feet, he crossed the darkness and locked himself in a bathroom stall. He closed his eyes against the crummy surroundings, the cement walls and tacky paint, and opened his fly. Shuddering, hot tears in his eyes, he jerked off furiously as the rhythms of Geddy’s bass lines pounded through the walls and drove him to his knees. _Geddy, I need you. Please,_ everything in him cried out. And then wet heat spilled over his fingers. He curled into himself, broken and weeping, and helpless to speak the few words that might ease his pain.

 

 

          The third show was easier. Yet, Geddy’s image had burned against the blue surfaces of his eyes more than ten times before he made it home without seeking some form of release. He had banished Geddy from his side, but he couldn’t banish him from his heart. Worse still, he couldn’t free himself of the crippling desire to have the singer in his bed. _I’ve tried not to want you_ , he’d say silently, thoughts addressing the man onstage. _If I could stop this, if I could feel nothing, then I could see you again. Hear you say my name instead of song lyrics._ Tears slid down his face. He might have been a study for a painting entitled: _Tortured._ Shadowy circles rimmed his eyes and his long fingers trembled on the battered tabletop. _You’re so beautiful, baby. And so far away._

          In that moment, he promised himself that he would stand up, walk out, and never see Geddy again. _Better never to see you, then to hurt you by asking you to be something you’re not._ But in that moment, something happened to make him pause, half standing.

          Onstage, Cassiel’s guitarist said something into Geddy’s ear as they performed. The bassist laughed and rocked back against him – a playful shove that was perfectly in character with the rollicksome music being performed on stage. Alex gaped and felt his heart fall to the floor and shatter. _No. Oh, Ged. No. Not him. You belong to me._

Unable to watch, he hurried from the small club. Vision blurry, he hastened to his car. Once free of the smoke and the noise, breathing deep, cold breaths of night air, he calmed somewhat. But he found himself unable to leave, watching the door to see that familiar figure walk out into the night and back into his life.

 

 

          The bandmembers of Cassiel passed by Alex’s car laughing and joking with one another, walking close together, coats closed about their stage clothes. The name of the man he loved rang in Alex’s mind, and he prayed that his voice would not tremble when he spoke it aloud. “Geddy.”

          His name came soft to the singer’s ears, but with the particular violence of a bullet; he gasped as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs by a painful collision. A moment passed as he sought after his breath. He turned, and it seemed to Alex that he braced himself – braced even his eyes to take in the sight of a face gone unseen for so long. “Alex.”

There was some murmuring, almost grumbling, from the men at either of Geddy’s shoulders. Alex knew that he was known to them – and not well liked. _You deserve it,_ he reminded himself. _Any pain he wishes to give you, you deserve it._

          Geddy’s eyebrow had lifted over his left eye, a questioning gesture that seemed pitiless when matched with the cold look on his face. Alex realized that he was waiting for him to speak. “Can I… can I talk to you?”

          The grumbling grew louder, and though the guitarist couldn’t make out the words, he could sense that Geddy’s new bandmembers had reached a consensus on what the singer should answer. Geddy turned and said a few things to them, ending with, “I’ll see you at practice.”

          Then they were facing each other in the twilight dim, the weird interplay of dying daylight causing the ground to seem bruised. The shoulders of their shadows touched, though they stood far apart. Alex found himself wishing for a moment of violence; a bruise would be a form of acknowledgement. Geddy’s vacant eyes gave him nothing.

          “You wanted to talk,” he reminded him.

          Alex nodded, miserable. The sun was sinking fast now and the air had begun to take a chill. “Could we talk somewhere else? I know you don’t have any reason to go anywhere with me…”

          “I don’t,” Geddy agreed, surprising him. He’d seen the singer be stubborn, but he was rarely confrontational and never cruel. Still, as Alex stood shocked and aching, the singer relented somewhat. “Where do you want to go?”

          Alex gulped air; he’d forgotten to breathe. In his relief, he sounded almost giddy. “Anywhere. Your house. My house. I don’t care.”

          Geddy felt unwilling to meet his former best friend at places that had been the scene of happier times. Instead, he chose a deli they’d frequented after gigs, reasoning that he could leave alone if things got too uncomfortable. Alex agreed, but his eyes grew sad when Geddy refused to ride with him. He followed anyway.

The florescent lights and gleaming tabletops of the deli hurt Alex’s eyes. He felt incredibly fragile, open to pain. Yet it seemed impossible that pain should come from the man sitting across from him. Geddy wore a jacket that was too big for him, and the shiny material of the shirt he’d worn to perform peeked out at the collar, incongruous. The large coat made him seem even smaller than usual, a child playing dress up. His fine, long-fingered hands were wrapped around a chipped coffee mug, seeking warmth. Alex wanted to hold them and warm them in his own.

          They ordered food. Alex had no interest in eating, but he knew that as long as they bought something, they could sit for hours. At the very beginnings of their friendship, Geddy’s mother had taken a strong stand against his new friend for reasons that neither boy had ever discovered. Forbidden to meet at Geddy’s house, they had alternated between Alex’s home and the deli, meeting after school to talk about music. Alex had more money than his friend (though not by much) and he had usually paid for everything, taking especial pleasure in feeding the slender boy. _I can’t give you anything now_ , he thought bitterly.

          They contented themselves with small talk for awhile, but the atmosphere was strained, and Geddy brought the conversation around to their present purpose. “So what did you want to talk about, Alex?” He added, softly, not entirely without pain, “It’s been eight months.”

          Alex flinched.

          “I heard your band’s not doing well,” Geddy continued, too casually. “That’s not why you’re here, is it?”

          “Ouch,” Alex said softly, involuntarily. _Eight months. Long enough for you to learn to think badly of me._ “I deserve that, I guess. No. It’s not why I came.”

          Geddy shrugged. “We did play well together.”

          Alex could not endure another moment of this strange charade. He knew that Geddy was hurt, that this strange dialogue was meant to hurt him in answer. But he didn’t know how to reach past the steely barriers he saw in Geddy’s eyes. “There was more to it than that,” he said in a strangled voice. _You were my best friend._

          Another shrug. “That’s not what you’re here to talk about either,” he said dismissively, as if such a thing was impossible.

          Alex let his eyes drop, bangs falling over them as he bent his head. “Yes it is.”

          He heard Geddy push away from the table, as if to stand. “If you’d have said that earlier, you could have saved us both the trip. You didn’t explain when you did it, and I’m not interested now.”

          Unable to lift his head, Alex heard him cross the floor and walk into the night. He didn’t even realize that he’d followed until he found himself in the passenger seat of Geddy’s car, with the singer staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Alex? What the hell?”

          The guitarist couldn’t hold his eyes. Staring out of the windshield and into the night, he said, “Look, I know what I did wrong. I know you’ll never be my best friend again. But you can at least let me say what I came to say. Then I’ll go.”

          Geddy tried to speak, but Alex gestured impatiently, asking for his silence. He nodded. When he looked back up, he saw that Alex was in terrible pain. “I didn’t ask you to leave because of anything that you did. I was afraid of what I might do…” He rubbed the back of his hand roughly over his eyes and Geddy was stunned to see tears shine against his skin. “I know you’re in love with him. . . I wouldn’t have asked you to go if I would have known there was a chance. . .” He sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I just… I wanted to say I was sorry. I can stand losing you to someone else, but I don’t want to lose you for good.”

          Knowing nothing of Alex’s feelings for him, Geddy understood little of what he heard. There was a note of amusement in his voice when he asked, “I’m in love with who, now?” Angry as he was for the way Alex had treated him, it still wasn’t easy for the bassist to see him hurting. He laid a hand on his arm. “What are you talking about, Alex?”

          “I saw you at the club with your band tonight. With your guitarist. I thought… I thought you seemed close.” He was having trouble now. If he’d misread everything he’d seen then his confession was predicated on nothing. _But he should hear it anyway. If I’m going to ask him to forgive me, it should be for that._

          Geddy’s face showed surprise that Alex had made up part of the audience, but he still tried to follow the strange conversation. “Terrence? He’s a nice guy. So what?” Then it clicked, and he laughed. “You think I’m in love with him?” Alex looked away, out the window. Geddy’s laughter cut out suddenly, as if someone had thrown a switch. “But even if I was… Alex, why would you care?” Connections began to form in his mind, and his eyes widened. “Alex, what are you trying to tell me?”

           The guitarist could hear it in his voice – he already knew. “I’m in love with you,” he admitted, miserable. “I asked you to leave the band because I was afraid you’d find out and hate me. When I saw you with him… I couldn’t stand it. I thought that if you had feelings for another guy, then maybe I didn’t have to lose my best friend.”  
         “You were jealous,” Geddy translated. Alex was surprised to hear anger in his voice.

          “Y-yes,” he admitted. “Because of how I feel about you.”

          Geddy shook his head side to side. “How you feel about me?” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “How much can you possibly feel for me, Alex? You went from being my best friend – my _only_ friend – to not talking to me, overnight! I was fine with leaving the band, but to have you stop talking to me? For no reason? What the hell was I supposed to think?”

          “I don’t know,” Alex almost whispered. He’d never seen Geddy so angry before.

          “And the only reason you’re here now is because someone else might have taken your place? God damn it, Alex.”

          “That’s not true. I _do_ care about you, Ged,” he tried to protest. “And I am sorry.”

          The singer would hear none of it. “You need to go,” he said quietly, coldly.

          Alex wanted to get down on his knees, to beg him to listen. He could see that it wouldn’t do any good. He opened the door and stepped outside. Geddy started the car and drove away without turning his head. Alex watched until the twin lights vanished, then slowly walked back to his car.

           

          Alex returned to his apartment/studio. It rented cheaply because its openness could not appeal to anyone but a musician. The kitchen and bathroom were so small as to be negligible, but the moon came through a skylight into the loft. His mother worried about him living in the large place all alone, but he pacified her by often appearing at the dinner table.

That night, the blond guitarist slipped restlessly in and out of dark dreams. He ached, but took some slim comfort from the fact that Geddy knew the truth. _Whatever happens now, he knows that I love him. He might hate me for it, but at least I got to say the words to him._

          The fragile sound at the window at the foot of his bed drew him out of shallow sleep. He thought it was a burst of rain, but moonlight flecked the comforter, flashing and sparkling in horsetails of creamy radiance. The sound was repeated. Once. And again. Gravel against the glass.

          He crawled to the edge of the bed and tried to stare down, but a streetlight obscured the view. Half-stumbling, he managed to wind his way down the spiral staircase that led to the loft. He stood at the kitchen door and stared out, and almost fell over backward when his mind woke up enough to tell him who was staring back in. “Geddy!” he murmured, aghast.

          He fumbled to open the door and the cold night blew Geddy inside. He seemed somehow cut from its cloth; an autumn-night creature with forest eyes and hair the color of earth long darkened and sustained in richness by leaffall. He had not changed out of his earlier stage clothes, despite the late hour, and the shiny cloth flashed silver at his throat. All Alex could initially find to say as Geddy unwrapped a scarf from his throat and tossed his jacket over the back of a kitchen chair was, “I thought you had a key.”

          “Threw it out,” Geddy said, not looking up as he tugged at his gloves.

          “Pretty mad, huh?”

          The singer shrugged. “Mad enough.” But his voice was gentle.

          “And now? I mean, you’re here.”

          Geddy looked around, seemed to notice the darkness and the hour for the first time. “And it’s god awful late, isn’t it? I couldn’t sleep. Thinking about what you said. It wasn’t right of me – not to listen. I thought if we talked…” he trailed off.

          Alex willed himself not to tremble, not to fall down and kiss the toes of his shoes in gratitude. “O-okay,” he said slowly.

          Geddy saw the blue rings below his eyes and realized that the guitarist hadn’t slept either. “We don’t have to talk now. You can go to sleep. I just…” He smiled sheepishly. “Well, you know how I am.”

          It was his first happy reference to their former relationship, and Alex smiled. “I do. Do you want to stay? I won’t…” He wasn’t sure how to say it. “I won’t say anything you don’t want me to.”

          “I wasn’t worried,” Geddy said easily. “I’ll stay.” And Alex remembered that of all the things he’d said, the singer had not responded badly to the announcement that he was in love with him. He shook his head. His brain must be sleep dazed.

Together, they climbed to the loft. Without asking, Geddy rummaged around for some of Alex’s clothes to sleep in. Alex barely noticed; his mind was racing with other thoughts. What could it mean that Geddy was here? At three o’clock in the morning? After he knew what he felt? He heard Geddy climb into the bed and get under the covers, and followed, cigarette in hand. He knew Geddy disapproved and apologized, explaining, “Seeing you… it’s a bit of a shock.”

          He fumbled to light the cigarette in the darkened room. Chuckling, Geddy took the lighter and did it for him – and old and intimate gesture he’d made many times before. They lay shoulder to shoulder in the dark, the orange glow of the cigarette like a period at the end of a sentence that they had not spoken – but which they were part of, a sentence that described all they were in that moment. “Is it crazy that I hate it that you smoke but like to see you smoking?” Geddy asked out of the darkness. “Something about you holding that spark in between your fingers.”

          Alex started; he hadn’t ever imagined that Geddy liked to _see_ him doing anything. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “Should you tell me that, after…”

          “After what you said? That’s what I’m here to figure out. All this. You and me. Can you talk me through it? From the beginning?”

          Alex paled in the darkness. Geddy Lee was asking him to tell him when he’d first fallen in love with him, to describe all that’d he felt since. And it seemed, suddenly, that the language he’d spoken all of his life now had far too few words. “I-I don’t know about a beginning,” he admitted, finally. “There were no warning signs. You kind of crept in. Grew on me.” The last words had an unintentional sexual subtext, and desert roses bloomed in his pale cheeks, hot and bright.

          Geddy’s voice was only thoughtful. “You’re the last person I would have thought would be…well, you know.”

          “Gay?” Alex asked, startled and confused. Then he realized that Geddy couldn’t possibly know that his condition had nothing to do with sexual definitions and the careful – perhaps improbable – delineations of which they consisted. Having made the greater confession, he decided that the smaller one could do little damage. _After all_ , he reasoned, _Geddy’s here. He heard the worst and came through alright, so he may as well hear the rest._ “Ged, I’m not gay. I’ve never wanted another man. Just you.” He crushed the cigarette out. “Gay might have been easier. I could have found a substitute.”

          Geddy surprised him by saying, teasingly, “Nice Jewish boys are hard to find.”

          Alex swatted at him and was surprised to find that, for all that had happened, he still felt very much like his best friend. “You’re taking this all pretty well, if you don’t mind me saying,” he told the singer.

          “I don’t know what I think yet,” Geddy admitted. “It’s too soon. But you… being in love with me… well – I can handle that better than I can you not talking to me.”

          “I thought you were mad about it, in the car.”

          “No, not about that.”

          “You were mad about something,” Alex pressed.

          “Yes,” he said firmly. “I was mad. Mad that you’d let anything ruin our friendship. Hell, Alex, you know what your friendship has meant to me. And then to just stop talking to me?” A note of pain entered his voice, making it at once more clear and more beautiful – and much harder to bear. “Do you have any idea what that did to me? I hadn’t felt that lonely since dad died.” Alex, who had helped him through the loss, knew that such a comparison could not be made lightly. “And I didn’t even have anyone I could talk to about it – because I’d always talked to you.”

          Alex swallowed hard. “I know it’s no excuse, but I was afraid of loving you. I thought you were too good for me. That you deserved better.” _That, touching you, I’d somehow ruin what you are._

Geddy socked him lightly in the arm. “If you’re talking about as a lover, I probably do deserve better,” he stated matter-of-factly. “But as a best friend? Never.” Reaching across the covers, he gripped Alex’s hand in his own so that their wrists overlapped – pulse to pulse, the guitarist’s heartbeat reflecting that of the bassist as skin touched skin. “Don’t let it happen again, Alex,” the singer said into the dark. “I don’t know if I could forgive you a second time.”

          Alex gulped air, incredibly grateful, stunned at the suddenness of the gift. He lay still for a long while, unwilling to withdraw his fingers from Geddy’s grip. Finally, he asked, “What about… what about loving you?”

          Geddy yawned and answered sleepily, “We’ll figure it out.” A smile in his voice, he teased, “Maybe it’s just infatuation.”

          “It’s not,” Alex declared from the darkness, solemn in his certainty.

          Geddy banished any shadow that might have been crossing his heart when he replied, “Well, then, maybe you’ll win me over.”

 

          They parted company in the morning, and Alex did not expect to see the best friend he had regained for several days. They both worked day jobs; no band they’d ever been a part of could sustain itself through performing alone – not yet, they told themselves. Alex was simply grateful to be forgiven and to have his friend back – though when Geddy left he couldn’t help climbing back into bed and pressing his face into the pillow where his friend’s head had lain.

          He was bowled over with excitement that evening when a soft rap on the door announced Geddy’s return. He knew that his surprise and his delight showed on his face when Geddy asked, “Should I have called?” But he was only teasing.

          Alex decided not to question his presence, but just to enjoy it, and quickly slipped back into his old habit of trying to feed him. Geddy accepted, admitting, “I’ve missed your food.”

          If the guitarist had felt braver, he might have answered in turn, “Love, I’ve missed your face.” Instead, he just flushed a little and set about preparing snacks with more attention than usual. In order to be able to move more easily around the tiny kitchen, he shooed Geddy to the couch. There was no wall between the wide open studio/ living room area and the kitchen, so while the singer sprawled out, they continued to talk. Alex had to stop himself from going overboard on the food, reminding himself that it wasn’t a date – that Geddy was visiting as his friend, as he’d done thousands of times before.

          “So how are you liking the new band?” he asked, sliding a tray of finger foods out of the oven.

          Geddy propped his head on his hands and peered over the arm of the couch. “I don’t know if I’m ready to talk music yet,” he answered, without emotion. “If you don’t mind.”

          “Alright,” Alex said, a little unsteadily. “I can understand that.” To lighten the mood, he gave his best Lerxstish wink. “We’ll file it under ‘probationary topics,’ until I’m back in your good graces.” Geddy rolled his eyes in answer, but smiled. “So, what do you want to talk about?” he asked, determined not to put his foot in his mouth a second time. Toe jam was by no means among his favorite flavors.

          Geddy almost made him drop and break a dish when he replied, “What we started talking about last night.”

          Leaving the food to cool for a minute, Alex came to sit beside him. Geddy started when he saw the guitarist’s cheeks take the hue of summer apples. Embarrassment did not come easily to Alex. “Are you okay?” he asked after a moment.

          “Yeah… I just… it’s not easy for me to say, y’know?”

          “Why not?”

          Alex couldn’t help laughing, though the question had been asked in innocent confusion. “Because you should hate me for it, partly. I keep waiting for a punch in the face.”

          Now Geddy was confused. “But I don’t hate you, so what’s the problem? Are you ashamed of wanting to be with another man?”

          “No. Of wanting _you_. I don’t understand why you’re not disgusted with me. Most guys would be.”

          Geddy smiled softly. “I’ve always cared about you deeply, Alex. It’s strange to me – I’ll give,” he admitted, brushing his hair nervously behind his ear. “But I wish you had just told me instead of letting it come between us.”

It was with genuine curiosity that Alex asked about a scenario he had never been able to fathom. “What would you have said?”

          “I have no idea.” He smiled. “I wouldn’t have punched you in the face.” He displayed his hands, the nails grown long for bass playing. “Could’ve broken a nail.”

          Alex burst into laughter. “Thanks.” More than being spared a bloody nose, he was thanking him for calming him down with his humor – and Geddy seemed to know it. After that, he let him off the hook and they watched television and ate their way through the snacks, staying up late into the night.

          When they went to bed, it was Alex who returned to the topic, saying, softly, “I’m glad, now, that I told you. I feel better. It’s easier.”

          “Easier?”

          “Before, there was always the possibility that you might feel the same, y’know? Just a fantasy. It’s a lot harder to want someone who doesn’t want you back.”

          “So you think you’ll get over me now?” Geddy asked.

          “Yeah,” Alex declared confidently. “Like you said – maybe it’s just infatuation.”

          Geddy’s laughter lit the darkness. “You still can’t lie worth a damn, Lerxst.”

          Alex lay in stunned silence before joining in. “Thought it was worth a try,” he admitted. “Give you an easy way out.”

          “It’s nice of you, but unnecessary.”

          “Unnecessary?” Alex repeated. “How’s that?.”

          “I never said anything about not wanting you back.” Hearing his sharp intake of breath, Geddy curled deeper into the covers. “Goodnight, Alex.”

          Alex was unsure of the game they were playing, but he now knew who had the upper hand. In refusing to either answer his confession or deny any possibility of a relationship, Geddy was now free to pursue any course – or all the courses – and drive the guitarist completely insane in the bargain. “You’re evil,” he said at last, grinning ear to ear.

          “And you’re in love with me,” came the sly retort. “What does that say about you?”

          Sighing, Alex capitulated – for now. “Good night, Dirk.”

         

 

          So, without Alex quite realizing what was happening, a ritual was established. Geddy would appear most nights of the week and they would spend time together – doing all the things they had once enjoyed together (except playing music, that is). Alex was willing to forego the music, though his own band had recently bit the dust, just so he could have Geddy under his eyes – and in his bed. He couldn’t swear positively that Geddy was seeking some kind of retaliation for the hurt he’d suffered, but he was too good at what he was doing to be doing it _all_ accidentally.

          The nights were the best, and the worst, too. In the darkness he found it easier to say all the things he wanted to say, and Geddy didn’t seem to mind hearing them. Of course, there were consequences to the telling – and with Geddy in bed beside him, he could do little to deal with them. _And to think_ , he thought, bemused, _I thought I was dangerous to you!_

          “Thanks for letting me come over so often,” Geddy said that night.

          “You haven’t been listening if you think you have to thank me,” Alex teased. “It’s been nice to see you so often, though it did surprise me at first.”

          “I think, maybe, I don’t want to let you out of my sight,” the singer admitted shyly.

          Alex knew he was vulnerable in that moment, admitting how hurt he’d been in his absence, and how lost. “Aw, Ged, I won’t ever do it again.”

          “I know that, but it’s nice to make up for lost time anyway. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

          Using his Lerxst voice, he joked, “Nah. I always wanted to find out what a permanent erection was like.”

          Geddy slugged him with a pillow until he cried for mercy. Later, once they’d settled, Geddy showed that his thoughts were still on that night in the car, when Alex had clumsily laid his heart at his feet. “In the car, you said you were afraid of doing something. What did you mean?”

          The fan moved the guitarist’s bangs across his face and he had been drowsing comfortably. Geddy’s question electrified him, and he fidgeted. “I don’t want you to be disgusted with me,” he said, by way of introduction.

          “I won’t.”

          “You might.”

          “I won’t.”

          He sighed. “Fine. I…uh… I’d get to needing you so bad that I’d… uh… have to take care of it, y’know?”

          “You got off, thinking about me?”

          Alex felt like his head was going to explode. “How do you say things like that so casually? Yeah, I did, alright? I told you you’d be disgusted.”

          “I’m not,” came the reply. “I’m just trying to understand. I still don’t understand what you were afraid of.”

          “That I’d touch you or kiss you – and not care whether you wanted me to or not.”

          Geddy reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “Lerxst, you don’t give yourself enough credit – or me, either. You’d never do anything like that. You’ve protected me my whole life. And if I didn’t want you to do something, I’d let you know.”

          “Even if you had to break a nail?”

          Then they were laughing, scuffling and wrestling together, tickling each other until Alex fell on the floor and Geddy declared himself the winner. And all of his nails were intact, he informed Alex, who still lay crumpled on the floor – overheated from the wrestling and reeling at feeling Geddy’s skin under his fingers. Alex just dragged a pillow off of the bed and over his face, wondering how he was going to survive his revived relationship – and wondering why he’d never felt better in his life.

 

 

          Several nights later, Alex was quite certain that his best friend wanted to see him committed to a mental institution. They’d been speaking about everyday things: movies, the changing weather, and music equipment, which Alex deemed a good sign, when Geddy asked. “Alex, why do you want to sleep with me?”

          Wide-eyed, Alex thrashed against the bed in frustration before turning to his companion. “Are you trying to make me insane? Do you really want me to tell you that when I’m lying beside you I have to fight to keep my dick from getting so hard that it hurts? I want you because you’re kind and gentle and smart and funny and talented and beautiful, and…” he realized he was ranting and finished with, “And incredibly, incredibly frustrating.” His manner softened and he added, “No one else does this to me, Ged.”

          There was a gentle kind of wonder in Geddy’s voice when he answered. “It sounds like you’re talking about someone else – someone exotic or famous.”

          “I’ve seen you perform lately. You will be famous, Geddy.”

          Geddy put him off, but thought to himself that he didn’t want to be famous without his best friend at his side. The dream had never been just to play music – but to play music with Alex. He knew things would have to change, but he wasn’t sure which path to take. The guitarist noted his silence. “What are you thinking over there in the dark?”

          “That I’m sorry that I frustrate you.” The answer was genuine.

          Alex’s laughter was like a warm wind. “I’m used to it. Of course, if you ever want to do something about it…”

          “I know where to find you.”

          They were both smiling as they drifted off to sleep.

 

 

A few nights later, their ritual was disrupted when Geddy did not appear. Alex found that he’d become used to sleeping beside the singer, the man he desired so much. Under a silver spell of sound, he drifted out of fantasy and into dream, with Geddy’s sweet voice ever in his mind. Around four AM, the phone rang, and that voice spoke into his ear. “Ali?”

          Alex couldn’t remember the last time Geddy had called him by his childhood nickname, and a wave of tenderness came over him. “Ged? Is everything okay? Why aren’t you here?” He realized a moment later that he probably didn’t have a right to ask the last question, but Geddy didn’t seem to notice.

          “Late show. The band after us didn’t show, so we encored. I didn’t want to wake you up.”

          “Then why are you calling me?” Alex asked, awake now and able to tease.

          Laughter answered him. “I don’t know. I’ve gotten used to talking to you before I sleep I guess.”

          “I’m just glad you’re okay. I got worried.”

          “Just a long night. Nothing to worry about,” Geddy assured him, but there was an undercurrent of emotional weariness in his voice, as if he wished the night had not happened. _I wish I had spent it with you, Alex._

          “As long as you aren’t running around on me,” Alex teased.

          “I never have,” came the soft reply.

          “Eh?”

          “You heard me. I’ve never been with anyone.”

          Alex turned his head into the pillow and moaned.

          “What was that?”

          “Oh, y’know, just a spontaneous orgasm. No big deal.”

          “You’re so strange,” said Geddy, but he said it fondly.

          “You just told me no one’s ever touched you – how did you think I’d react?”

          “I thought you’d laugh. I’m twenty-one years old. That’s a lot of years of being turned down.”

          Alex was remembering their teenage years; Geddy had done his fair share of bragging. “I always thought…”

          “I always let you. I got teased enough, if you remember. I didn’t need anything else held against me.”

          “Ged, I never would have made fun of you. You know that, right?”

          “I know. Now go to sleep, Lerxst. I shouldn’t have woken you up.”      

          “You can always wake me up,” Alex told him. “Though God knows how I’m supposed to go back to sleep now. I’ll be up all night trying to think of ways to win you over.”

          Geddy laughed.

          The guitarist was grateful that he could accept his flirtations in such good humor, but his next words were sincere. “Ged, maybe I don’t have a right to say so, but I would love to be your first – to take care of you the way you deserve. I won’t push you, but if you ever want to…”

          “Thank you, Ali. Now get some sleep.”

          “I told you, I have schemes to concoct.” He slyly emphasized the “cock” sound in the last word.

          “Don’t overtax yourself. No one else is in line, after all.” And then he hung up, leaving Alex feeling stunned, hopeful, and aroused – again.

 

          As days and weeks passed, Alex struggled to figure out the new situation he was in. Geddy never asked him to leave off his compliments, and sometimes he openly flirted back. On the other hand, he never made any attempt to increase their physical contact, though he didn’t openly avoid it either. He never blushed when their hands touched, and he still wrestled and tussled and played with Alex as he ever had. Such behavior had Alex going out of his mind. _He has to know he’s turning me on. He **has** to. _And yet, if Geddy ever noticed the physical signs of his arousal, he never gave any indication. The guitarist had the distinct sense that he was being strung along – but Geddy never seemed conscious of the way he teased; he seemed incapable of quite believing that anyone _could_ desire him.

          Alex clung to the words he’d spoken and the hope that he might win him over, but he had no idea how such a thing might be accomplished. He had always taken care of Geddy as best he knew how – there was nothing he could add to the kindnesses he had always performed as a best friend, at least, nothing Geddy would accept. So he swung daily between misery and elation – hoping, hoping, hoping.

          What he didn’t know was that Geddy was enduring a struggle of his own. Having never been in any relationship, never mind a relationship with another man, Geddy was having trouble finding his footing. Alex’s affection bewildered him; he had never been anyone’s explicit object of desire and he found the role unsettling. He felt that he had too much power in the situation – and no idea what to do with it. There was no lack of attraction on his side. He’d always found Alex beautiful. To deny that fact would be like denying the color of the sky or the changing of the seasons. Alex’s attractiveness had been a part of his daily scenery since they were twelve years old. He had never placed such attraction in a sexual context, but he didn’t doubt that Alex would care for him with all of the gentleness and devotion he had always brought to their friendship. And still he hesitated, trying vainly to wrap his head around just why his golden-haired guitarist would want _him_. He knew (or thought he did, anyway) that their friendship had developed out of Alex’s pity for him. Alex had a soft spot for lost and broken things; he liked to take them in and repair them and place them in loving hands. Geddy couldn’t remember the last time he’d been without some new pet, brought in off of the street and cared for until it could be found a home. Once, he’d found a fawn whose mother had been killed on the road. The baby wouldn’t wander far from the corpse and was sure to be hit too. Alex had simply lifted the long-legged thing and brought it home in his car. Eventually the park service had taken it and released it, but not before it had learned to eat honey from Alex’s fingers. Geddy wondered if Alex yet saw something pitiful in him, something that needed care.

          Such thoughts occupied him mind as he showered that morning, and it was only after a few moments that he noticed that he was inexplicably hard. He searched for a reason, and knew it was because he was in Alex’s home. There was something breathlessly exciting about being naked in a place where he knew that he was desired. _All I would have to do is walk through that door and into his room…_ But he knew that he couldn’t do it. Not yet. He also knew, for certain, that what he’d said to Alex – “you might win me over” – was very true, and very possible. Wrapped in a towel, he padded back into the bedroom. Golden hair shining in the sunlight, Alex slept on. Geddy sat down to pull on his socks and found himself yawning, overwhelmed with sudden sleepiness.

          He awoke, later, to find Alex’s eyes upon him. He still only wore a towel. Alex flushed and held his hands in front of him as a ward. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.”

          Geddy just laughed and stood to dress. Alex averted his eyes. “You’re silly, Lerxst.”

          “Maybe,” Alex said, stretching against the bed, “But you don’t have to get me a birthday present this year if you don’t want to. That was enough.”

         “Oy vez,” Geddy replied, still turned away. He didn’t want Alex to see that he was blushing like crazy.

That night, Geddy appeared late. He’d warned Alex that he would, and expected the guitarist to be asleep. He had resumed some of his former stage persona, and his eyelids glittered, shining flecks sparkling on his cheeks. The moonlight wound through his hair like rivers of silver. Seeing him shining, Alex gave a sigh that was pure desire. “How about you just stand there like that and let me get off? That’s not even dating – no obligation whatsoever.”

          Geddy howled with laughter; Alex’s deadpan voice was both uncharacteristic and hilarious.

          “I’m glad my desperation amuses you, you darling tease,” the guitarist retorted, a smile playing about his lips.

          In perfect imitation of a famous entertainer, Geddy unwound the scarf from about his long throat and tossed it to his adoring fan. Donning the scarf, Alex asked, “You’re sure you’re not punishing me? Just a little bit?”

          Geddy held his thumb and forefinger a quarter inch apart. “Maybe this much”

          Alex pulled the covers over his head. “I am in the tent of disapproval,” he announced, though the fabric.

          “Well, that’s too bad,” Geddy said coyly. “Because I am getting out of the pants of discomfort if you care to watch.” It was a lie; he was already in pajama pants, but it made Alex pop back out of hiding.

          Realizing he’d been duped, Alex sighed, but remained visible. “Tell me again why I put up with you?”

          “Your misguided belief that I’m cute, I think. Either that or some form of mild masochism.”

          “For future reference, I’m not a masochist – and I’m not ‘misguided’ either. I can’t help it if you’re stupid about the way you look.”

          Geddy feigned an annoyed look at the insult. “Well, you’re going against the current of popular opinion, I can tell you that.”

          Alex hung off of the side of the bed to rummage for something. “They’re wrong. Look.” He tossed Geddy a notebook, which the singer caught even as it fell open to reveal him to himself. The sketches were done in various mediums – chalk, charcoal, pencil, and ink – but the subject was all the same – all himself. As he flipped the pages, Alex hoped he’d had the sense to give him the non-explicit notebook.

          “I-I didn’t know you drew,” Geddy stammered.

          “No one does,” Alex admitted. “I thought that what I drew might give something away.” He winked.

          Geddy was still looking down. “I don’t look like this,” he murmured, tracing one of the portraits.

          “Right,” Alex agreed sarcastically, “Because someone who’s lusted after you for years would have _no idea_ what you look like.”

          When he lifted his head, Geddy’s eyes were shining. “Someone who’s lusted after me for years probably has head injuries.”

          “Only from pounding it against walls,” Alex answered sweetly. “Now come to bed, would you? Being a tease is one thing, but being a tease and robbing me of my sleep is bordering on sinister.”

          Geddy complied, but shifted restlessly from position to position after the lights had been turned down. “What’s got you so unsettled?” Alex asked him. He couldn’t resist adding, “I can probably come up with some good solutions to fix it, whatever it is.”

          Geddy smiled despite the things weighing on his mind. “And how many of those would _not_ include sex?”

          “Some. You know I’d do anything for you. If you want to sit up and talk I can make hot chocolate or something.”

          “With marshmallow fluff and sprinkles?”

          Alex sighed and stood. “You’re so demanding.”He was still wearing the scarf as he descended the stairs.

          Fifteen minutes later he returned, tray in hand. He had a flare for the artistic when it came to food, and maraschino cherries decorated the rims of the mugs, cheery against the mounds of marshmallow and whipped cream. Seeing Geddy lap at the fluffy sugar, Alex had to suppress a shiver. He placed a cherry in his mouth to suck the whipped cream off, then returned it to the edge of the mug. Knowing he wouldn’t eat it, Geddy took it ate it himself. Seeing his stare, he nudged the guitarist in the ribs. “What?”

          “If you’re trying to distract me so I won’t ask what’s on your mind, you’re doing a hell of a good job. Next time, just take the damn thing out of my mouth.”

          “Thought about it,” Geddy admitted. He wasn’t teasing, but Alex couldn’t know that.

          “So what _is_ on your mind, before you drive me out of mine and I start asking you to put your mouth to other uses?”

          Geddy ignored the jibe. “Cassiel.”

          “Oh?” Alex tried not to sound too interested, or too desperate. He’d give anything to have Geddy back as his bandmate, and he hoped that Geddy knew it.

          “It-it’s not what I want, Alex. I thought it was. I thought I was enjoying myself. But it’s not…it’s not the kind of music I want to play. I don’t want to spend my life on the bar circuit.”

          “You’re a real musician, Dirk. They aren’t. That’s the short of it. There are other musicians, though. I’m sure you can find a band you _do_ want to be in, if you start looking.”

          Geddy’s eyes were lowered. “You’re a musician, too, Ali.”

          His heart beat faster. “What are you saying?”

          “That I want you to ask for me back. I’ve been waiting, but you’ve never asked. Did you… did you really want me to leave the band? Was it not just the way you feel about me? You can tell me. I just want to know the truth.”

          Alex stared, stunned. Then he placed a shaking arm around his best friend. “Oh, Ged, you don’t think that, do you? I only asked you to leave because I thought I was keeping you safe, I _swear_. Of course I want to play music with you again! I’ve wanted it since you came back. I was just afraid to ask because you said you didn’t want to talk about it that one day. I know you hate to back out of commitments, too, so I didn’t want to ask you to leave Cassiel for me.” He sighed with relief when Geddy smiled. “So come back, huh? We’ll start a new band, you and me. And we’ll find a drummer somewhere – someone we half-like, anyway. Deal?”

          Geddy threw his hands around his neck. “Deal.”

         

The next weeks of Alex’s life were the happiest he ever remembered spending. Geddy was a constant and lovely part of his landscape, playing and singing his heart out as they restructured their band, and being adorable and sexy at once as they lay in bed together at night. If asked, the guitarist would have said that there was no way his current state could be much improved on.

Of course, he had no idea that Geddy would turn to him that night and say, “Ali, can I ask you something that might be crazy? Will you promise not to laugh?”

“Ged, after the things I’ve been telling you, nothing would sound crazy to me. I won’t laugh.”

Geddy still hesitated, wondering what would come of the strange dice throw he was about to make. “Alex, would you make out with me?”

Alex choked on air. “What!?”

Geddy fidgeted, his flushed cheeks hidden by the darkness. “Well, you know how I said I’ve never been with anyone?”

Alex nodded dumbly before realizing that Geddy couldn’t see him nodding. “Yeah. I remember. Excuse me while I wipe the drool off of my mouth.”

          Geddy didn’t answer his teasing; he was too caught up in what he was proposing. “Well, I-I…”

          Alex could tell he was upset, and gently rubbed his shoulders. “Easy. Take it slow. It’s just me.”

          “I-I’m scared, okay? Scared of messing things up. But I want to be with you, Lerxst, so I thought maybe if we started with making out…” he trailed off, afraid that he sounded completely idiotic.

          “Oh, Ged…” Alex whispered. “Are you serious? Are you sure?” He fought hard not to get choked up. “Geddy, I’d be completely honored.”

          The intensity of the emotions he heard in Alex’s voice made Geddy tremble. “Even if… even if we just kiss?”

          Alex reached for his hand and squeezed. “Ged, I’ll do anything you want. I’ll take you out if you want me to. We can go as slow as you want. You just talk me through it, okay? Don’t be afraid to say you like something or don’t like something else. I won’t be mad.”

          Geddy blew out a sigh of relief. “Thanks. I feel better now.”

          “Well enough for me to kiss you?”

          Geddy recovered some of his flirtatiousness. “Impatient, huh?”

          “You know it. You know how you get to me, baby. You can get me to do anything you want. If you want to hear me beg to kiss your sweet mouth, I’ll beg you.”

          Geddy moaned softly; it was the first sound of need Alex had ever heard him make. Responding instinctively, he gently claimed his mouth. Geddy’s lips were small, soft, and warm – a sweet combination that would have had Alex hyperventilating if he weren’t so intent on giving the bassist pleasure. Compressing all of his skills into what could be done with his mouth and a few soft touches, he sought to show the singer just what love could be.

          It was only after a few minutes that he noticed that Geddy was not responding, and pulled back. He tried to hide the flicker of pain that crossed his face. “You hate it, huh?”

          Geddy’s eyes opened, the long lashes flickering a few times. “No,” he said from somewhere far away. “I’m just… dizzy, Alex. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you stop.”

          Alex chuckled with relief. “Just making sure you’re okay. You can kiss me back, you know.”

          Geddy colored. “I…I’ve never kissed anyone, Alex. Not like you just kissed me.”

          Alex smiled. “Trust me, it’s not something you can mess up. Here, this time when I kiss you, open up your mouth a little, okay?”

          “O-okay.” Geddy complied, his lips parting a little under Alex’s mouth. Circling the opening with his tongue, Alex slipped inside to explore the contours and to encourage Geddy’s tongue into dancing with his own. Geddy joined in eagerly, falling back with a moan after several minutes of intense kissing.

          The sound he made caused Alex’s groin to tighten. “You like that, love? You feel good?”

          “Yes,” Geddy panted, sounding happy and excited - and utterly adorable. “Can I… can I do that to you?”

          “Put your tongue in my mouth? Absolutely.”

          As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Geddy leaned up and claimed his lips in a clumsy but enthusiastic kiss. Alex let himself be drawn down over him, surrendering his mouth for Geddy to explore and claim. Somewhere in the middle of being driven out of his mind, Alex’s body became aligned with that of his friend – and his need pulsed hungrily between Geddy’s legs. Mortified, he froze and broke away from the sweet pressure of Geddy’s mouth. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, wondering how badly he’d just messed things up.

          Geddy simply reached forward and undid the buttons on his jeans. He was sliding the zipper down when Alex came to. “What are you doing!?”

          “Ali, if you can get off from me kissing you, you probably deserve to. I want you to feel good too.”

          Alex wanted to say seventeen different things, but he found himself unable to speak when Geddy lifted his cock out of his pants as if he’d done it a thousand times before. Alex gasped and panted for a moment, and then he was being pulled back down, his cock flush with Geddy’s crotch. The weeping organ left wet spots on the rough fabric, and the friction made the guitarist want to scream his head off. And Geddy kept kissing him, kept thrusting his sweet, hot tongue in between his teeth. And then, when he thought he could endure no more, Geddy was holding him through the worst of the tremors, his fingers wrapping gently around his cock. His touches were awkward and the strokes uneven, but in Alex’s state it hardly mattered. Burying his face in the singer’s neck, he begged him for release and cried out his name.

          And then Geddy was wiping his hands on a towel and returning to bed to scatter soft kisses across his face and neck. “Shhh,” he soothed as the blond trembled at his side. “It’s okay, Ali.”

          And Alex laughed for joy and was not ashamed that happy tears slid down his cheeks, and that Geddy wiped them away. “Why are you crying?”

          “Just overwhelmed. I can’t believe you did that, Ged, let me come all over you like that. I didn’t ruin it, did I?”

          Geddy searched out his mouth again and kissed him. “You didn’t ruin anything, Ali. I wanted you to feel good. I’m glad I was able to make you feel good.”

          “What about you, darling? Is there anything I can do for you?”

          Geddy was still somewhat hesitant, not quite ready. “I’m still a little dizzy,” he admitted. When Alex looked concerned, he assured him it was a good dizziness. “Can you ask me again in the morning?”

          Holding him tight, Alex promised he would.

         

The next morning, Alex woke up to sweet lips being pressed against his. “I’ve had this dream before,” he murmured sleepily, eyes still closed.

          “Oh?” asked the most seductive voice he’d ever heard. “How does it go?”

          Alex cracked an eye. “I think you’re supposed to tell me. What can I do for you, love?”

          Geddy was happy that he remembered, but nervous now that he was put on the spot. “Uhm…” Geddy began nervously. “I… uh… you’ll probably think this is completely stupid…”

          Alex sat up and faced him, blankets over his shoulder like a cape. “Ged, before you get yourself any more worked up than you already are, let me make two things clear for you. One: I’ll do absolutely anything you ask me to if you ask me in that orgasm-inducing silver sweet voice of yours. Two: I want to take care of you – for my whole life if you’ll let me. So don’t be afraid. Whatever it is, I promise I’ve got weirder requests stashed away for you.”

          Geddy lifted a questioning eyebrow. “Oh?”

          “I’m saving them,” Alex Lerxstishly explained. “Didn’t want to scare you off.”

          Geddy laughed at him, but was still no closer to giving voice to his own desires. Assessing the situation, Alex threw the comforter over both of their heads and drew the singer down beside him. “This is the cave of secrecy,” he explained with his best goofy grin.

          “I thought it was the tent of disapproval,” Geddy replied, failing to hide a grin.

          “They look similar,” Alex agreed. “But here, you’re safe. There’s nothing except you and me, and there’s nothing you have to be afraid of.”

          Loving him for the way he always cared for him, Geddy placed his lip’s to the guitarist’s ear. “You know how you got hard when you were kissing me last night?”

          Alex flushed and started to apologize, but Geddy cut him off.

          “I liked it – you rubbing up against me through my clothes. Could we… start there? Is that silly to ask?”

          Overcome by the delicious possibility that Geddy might have gotten hard too, Alex had to fight hard to speak. “It’s not silly at all,” he reassured the singer in a voice husky with desire. “In fact,” he added, positioning himself over the man he loved, “it’s incredibly hot.” Then he fell to kissing his neck, exploring a sensitive spot he’d found just behind his ear. When he was sure he had Geddy warmed up, he left off the sweet assault. “Don’t forget to talk to me,” he reminded his new lover. “Tell me if something’s too fast or too slow.”

          Then he lowered his body by degrees, until they fit together like a hand in a glove. He started out slowly. Geddy gasped when need met need through the cloth of their sleeping clothes, and Alex had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. Somehow the act of grinding against one another fully clothed was much more erotic than the sex act itself. Alex felt sweat pearl on his forehead as he thrust between Geddy’s legs. The singer was trembling, hands wrapped in Alex’s shirt.

          As their movements became frantic, he drew Alex down until their foreheads touched and whispered, panting, “Is this… what you meant when you said you got so hard it hurt?”

          Alex groaned in response, throat pulled taut. “Oh, Ged…” he sighed into the singer’s shoulder. “Let me help you.”

          Geddy looked up at him with desperation-bright eyes. “Yes. Please.”

          The wave of desire that coursed up Alex’s body nearly made him pass out. “Tell me what to do, baby. Do you want me to use my hands, like you did last night? Or do you want to be in my mouth?”

          Geddy shuddered and pulsed against him. “Can we keep doing this? With our pants off? I-I want to feel you, Ali.”

          “Oh, God…” Alex moaned, hurrying to slide his pants past his hips. His cock emerged, thick and dripping and he saw Geddy’s eyes widen. Transfixed, the bassist lay still for a moment, which allowed Alex to go to work on his pants. “Let me,” he whispered tenderly, performing an act he’d longed to do. Geddy whimpered as the fabric touched his scalding member, and Alex trembled in response. He’d expected Geddy’s orgasm to come quickly, but he hadn’t realized how close he’d become in the course of their clothed make-out session.

          His fingers shook as he gripped himself and then joined his need to Geddy’s, stroking the two of them together. Geddy cried out on every upward stroke. His voice drove Alex out of his mind. He heard himself murmuring the singer’s name over and over again as he pushed into him, leaking fluids over the soft skin of his inner thighs. Geddy gripped him tightly, hips and shoulders twisting against the sheets as he searched for deeper contact. “Alex,” he cried out, “Alex, I’m so close…”

          The guitarist responded by increasing the speed of his touches and rubbing his palm over the head of his lover’s cock. His own need was entirely forgotten in the joy he felt at being able to make love to the man in his arms. “Let go,” he urged the singer. “Come for me.”

          Geddy answered with a shuddering cry, hips cresting in a single violent motion. Scarcely able to move, Alex watched his face as he came and thought that he had never seen anything so beautiful. Then Geddy’s eyes shot open, and he ran his fingers across the guitarist’s weeping cock in a single slow touch. It was enough. Alex spilled the white heat that had burned in his loins across his lover’s thighs and stomach, and heard Geddy sigh with pleasure.

          When he recovered, wrecked and sticky, his eyes sought out his bedmate’s face. “Does this mean you love me, too?”

          Geddy kissed him lightly on the nose. “Yeah.”

          “What won you over?”

          Geddy looked him over and smiled a secret sort of smile. “I’ll tell you later – when you’re in better shape to hear it.”

          Alex smiled and let himself rest. Making love to Geddy had showed him that he was going to need it.

         

          Eyes still closed, he felt the singer’s lips alight softly over his eyes. Then he was kissing down his face, burying his face in his neck and straddling his hips. Alex’s breath came out in a sharp gasp. “Ged…”

          His voice made the singer freeze. “Is it too fast?” he asked uncertainly. He guided Alex’s hand to his crotch and pushed into it. “I’m hard for you again.” Shy even in his sexiness, he asked, “Is that normal?”

          Alex laughed, head thrown back, body arching into Geddy. “You’re young and I’ve been trying to get you worked up for weeks! We can stay in bed all day if you want to.”

          Relieved, Geddy smiled down at him. “I think you deserve a day in bed, after all those frustrated nights.”

          A thrill shot up Alex’s spine at those words and he closed his eyes and moaned. “Oh, baby… do you mean it?”

          Geddy pushed against him, letting him see just how much he meant it. “You did win me over, after all.”

          Rocking against his lover in sure, certain motions, Alex ran his fingers up his lover’s arms, teasing. “Was it all that talk about permanent erections?”

          Humming in pleasure as he rolled his hips – and his need – against Alex, Geddy laughed. “No. Those cherries helped your cause, though.”

          Alex moaned again. “You tease…”

          “You know you like it.” Surveying the scene, that is, a hot, naked bassist positioned over him with a knowing smile on his kiss-bright lips, Alex had to concede the point.

          “I’d still like to know what I did to deserve it,” he said, fighting to concentrate even as skilled fingers navigated the silken length of his shaft, each burning touch threatening to imprint his body in a way that said he belonged to his lover. “I _did_ mess up pretty bad there.”

          Geddy situated himself beside the guitarist, drawing their bodies into close contact, but lessening the urgency that made his blood pound in his ears and forced him to breathe hard and fast. “Not talking to me was a mistake,” Geddy agreed, but then his voice gentled. “But, Ali, you made up for it.”

          “How?”

          Geddy clasped his hand. “You waited on me. I could hear how you wanted me, when you’d talk to me at night.” He trailed his fingers down the guitarist’s aching length. “I could see it, too. But you never pushed.” He pulled Alex closer. “And when you said you’d be honored to be with me…” he trailed off, momentarily too emotional to speak. “Alex, no one’s ever sounded like that, saying my name. I knew the best place I could be was right here beside you.”

          Alex trembled with joy. “You… you’re all I’ve ever wanted.” He wanted to tell the bassist that he would never leave him lonely, but Geddy didn’t give him a chance. Darkness swiftly overtaking the forest light of his eyes, he said – in that voice that could shatter all that Alex was – “I’m here. And I’m yours. And I want to make up for some of those nights. Tell me what to do.”

          Alex, who had so far instructed and guided their relationship, found himself completely bewildered in the face of a million erotic possibilities. His tongue froze in his mouth and he could only stare, burning for deeper contact and helpless to voice his needs. Somehow, Geddy read something in his face and smiled a slow, hungry smile, holding his lover’s eyes even as he moved down his body.

          His movements were sure and knowing. If Alex had been able to think, he would have known in that moment that Geddy had known (at least on some level) what he’d been doing to him all along. The words _I thought I was teaching him_ , flashed through his mind and faltered in the recognition that he belonged to Geddy – that he had belonged to him all along.

          Then the singer’s mouth opened, and he was surrounded by wet heat and a sweet sucking sensation. _My siren – even when you aren’t using that gorgeous mouth for singing._ And Geddy was urging him deeper with his tongue and his lips. He positioned the guitarist’s long fingers on the back of his head, tangling them in his soft hair. Alex could barely move even to set the rhythm as he remembered that Geddy was a virgin and that no one else had (or ever would, he vowed) felt his mouth like this. The thought almost made him fill his mouth with a wet and sudden heat, but he held back, whimpering, not wanting it to end. Geddy moaned in answer, sending sweet sensations through his straining cock.

          And when Geddy reached between his legs and wrapped his fingers around himself, Alex almost passed out. “Oh, Ged,” he groaned. His hips bucked against the mattress and he bit back a scream. Geddy smiled around his cock and released him, leaving him wet and slick in his hand. He smiled into his lover’s eyes. “Why are you holding out on me, Lerxst?”

          Alex panted, searching for his voice. “Holding out?”

          “You came when I just kissed you – you’re holding back this time. Why?”

          “I-I wasn’t sure if you’d be okay if I… if I came in your mouth.”

          “I want you to. I want to feel you and taste you coming inside of my throat.” He stroked himself, teasing. “I want to see you coming so I can get off.”

          Alex made a sobbing, yearning sound and pushed eagerly against his lips. “Please. Please. Make this real,” he heard himself say, and Geddy was working him with him tongue, taking him down deeper and deeper, and looking up with passion dark eyes flashing “yes. Yes.” And Alex felt his body answering, muscles winding up tighter and tighter, eyes riveted on the motion of Geddy’s hand on his cock.  
          Then he was watching him swallow down the white fire and the taste of him, even as he pushed himself over the edge with a sharp cry. He held his lover in his gaze as long as he could, still shaking as he realized that Geddy’s lips were sticky with his own juices. And then he was tasting himself on those lips, praise-whispering his love into the singer’s hair. “You’re incredible,” he murmured. “Ged, your mouth…”

          Geddy drew a blanket around them and hushed him with a sweet kiss. “Is yours. I told you that already.”

Alex cupped his face with his hands, wanting to drown in the dark dream jungles of his eyes. “I thought I’d lost you for good. That’d I’d only get to watch you onstage. I never want to live without you. Tell me I won’t have to.”   

          “Never,” the singer assured him. “I can’t get rid of you even when I try. I can’t believe you came to listen to me at those clubs.”

          “Couldn’t help it. I can’t stand to be away from the sound of your voice.”

          “Good,” said the singer, kissing him on the brow. “I think I’ve been singing to you all along.”

          Alex, body glowing with love and the aftereffects of desire, smiled, thinking they did make beautiful music together.

 

 End!

 

         


End file.
